


Daughter of Space (Vice Quadrant Edition)

by The_Whistler



Series: Vice Quadrant fan stories [2]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Fire, Sci-Fi, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whistler/pseuds/The_Whistler
Summary: Parallel to the creation of Commander Cosmo, another Peter Walter IV in another dimension survives a blast in space and starts out on an entirely different path.
Relationships: Peter Walter IV/Daughter of Space, Peter Walter IV/Holly
Series: Vice Quadrant fan stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/563864
Kudos: 2





	Daughter of Space (Vice Quadrant Edition)

**Author's Note:**

> Years back, before there was a Vice Quadrant album with lore to match, all we knew of Peter IV was that he was lost on a space exploration mission. And all we knew of the Daughter of Space was that she came to Earth and destroyed a squad of ships but kept one man alive and took him away. We had no idea the two would ever be the same story and David insisted there was no connection.
> 
> So at the time, I wrote a Daughter of Space story for funsies. Now that we have the lore, I’ve written another, with the goal of exploring how a man could, given a slight change in circumstances, become a monster instead of a hero. I may continue this later, may not, but as it is now, it should show how a series of experiences could make a man more inclined toward vindictiveness than heroism.

He knew it would be hard for her. She'd been very brave but he knew. She was being brave even now...

"Peter," she said softly, "I want you to wear my locket. For luck."

Peter looked down as she fastened it around his neck. "It won't be as pretty on me," he said with a crooked grin.

"Oh, you," she breathed, smiling. 

He wasn't fooled. He saw the trembling of her cheeks as she struggled to keep from crying.

"Holly, don't. Don't cry..."

"I'm not!" she gasped, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Holly... baby... I promise I'll be back soon. Remember what I told you?"

She nodded. He pulled her into his arms.

"I told you... I'd hold you," he sang softly, close to her ear.

He could feel her body convulse as the sobs broke over her but pressed on, singing the song he'd written, with a little help from a tall, titanium friend, just for her.

"Hold you 'til the mornin' light... You saved me..."

She had. His father's death had almost destroyed him. His mother had never recovered and he'd lost her, too. The rumors had flown about their family, he'd almost given up trying to get into the program.

Then he'd met Holly. She'd lost people too...

"I'll save you, save ourselves from our own plight..."

His comm activated. It was time to go. They kissed one more time... he reluctantly let her go. Reluctant, if for just a moment... This was his life's dream and they both knew it.

"I'll be back just as I left! I love you!" he called as the astronauts hurried away.

He could just hear her whisper, "I love you too..."

Peter could feel her locket next to his heart as the ship shuddered upward into the stratosphere. He still wasn't sure why he had told her that. Sure, she worried about his work, that something might go wrong. He wanted to reassure her. But why reassure her that he would return unchanged? Surely promising to come back at all made more sense...

"Establishing orbit, Bermuda," he said as the ship turned smoothly into position.

"Roger that, Commander. Nice work."

All executed as smooth as silk. He heard a faint cheer in mission control. He could almost see them grinning at each other. Orbit was established. They could finally relax a little.

Maybe her fear was getting to him. He just wished he could shake the odd little feeling of dread. Yes, it was just her worry sneaking into his head. After all, she was everything to him. It only made sense to value her opinion.

Hodgson and Bishop were up and moving around the capsule. Dwight was checking the readings. Peter jiggled his suit and the locket floated out and into his helmet. He opened the visor and grabbed it, prying it open carefully.

"Sweet, sweet Holly," he murmured. He heard Dwight chuckle softly.

"Hell of a woman, Walter. You're a lucky man."

"You said it."

The radio crackled, startling him.

"Say again, Bermuda?"

He could just make out a voice through severe interference.

"Commander Walter... there's an unknown energy escaping Earth's atmos-"

"Bermuda!" he cried as the signal cut out.

He heard Dwight gasp, "Walt-"

There was blue... deep, bright, almost violet... blinding, burning through the stratosphere toward the ship, filling his sight. There was nowhere to run... Holly had been right...

No! He wasn't willing to accept it! He scrambled for the controls, hands moving as fast as he could manage.

"Bishop!" he screamed. "Blow the port cargo hatch! _Now, dammit!"_

Bishop had been gaping at the light. He snapped out of it and complied.

The light was so bright , Peter almost couldn't see the controls... he squinted hard, making adjustments, praying to whatever god was out there that he was fast enough... the ship jerked as the hatch blew open... Peter heard cries of terror.

Time had run out. He clamped his eyes shut and waited for the impact.

The shuddering intensified, rattling his clenched teeth as he sat holding his breath... felt a burning sensation in his chest for a moment and cried out, sure that he had failed. His scream seemed to trail away into the distance. The pain intensified as the sound lengthened, and... faded. The sound, the pain... Gone.

He opened his eyes with effort and looked at the others.

"Cosmo!" crackled mission control.

No one moved. Peter was still in shock. For a fraction of a second, he almost felt they were calling _him_ Cosmo... no... that was the ship... This, too, faded.

What a strange thought...

"Cosmo! Commander Walter, read!"

With a trembling hand, Peter accessed the comm. "Here, control."

"Status?"

"We... we seem to have had a close shave..."

"Is there any damage, Cosmo?"

"Uh... damage..."

"Cosmo! Pull it together! Damage report."

"Damage... um... just a minute. Um... a-assessing..."

Peter took a deep breath. His throat ached and he had tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard, blinked a few times, and turned to see the others already shaking themselves from their own shock to begin a systems check.

"Cosmo? Any damage?"

"Um..." Each of the others gave a thumbs up. He exhaled, relieved. "Fine... We're fine, control. Holy Hell... I thought that was it!"

"Take a deep breath, Commander. We thought the same thing. Glad to hear you're alright. We're looking into it down here, send any data you have so we can compare. Continue checklist."

"Right. On it." He switched of the mic.

"Dammit, Walter... how'd you do that?" Dwight murmured.

"I still don't know. Just lucky I think."

"The hell you were. You saved our bacon..."

"And my own! I swear it was a million to one fluke. I couldn't repeat it if you paid me."

"Be humble if you want. Hell, say God guided your hand and gave you the idea to blow the hatch. But that was some sweet maneuvering I saw. Those schmucks in the press corps will be singing a different tune by the time we land."

"Dwight..."

"No, I mean it. 'Bout time too. They've given you too much crap just because of that messed up family of yours."

"Dwight, come on. They _are_ my family..."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do. But right now I wish I was down there with them."

With fumbling fingers, Peter tugged off one glove, grabbed the locket once more, and opened it.

"I'm coming back," he whispered, looking at her smiling face. He'd promised, and he meant to keep that promise.

"She knows, buddy. You got yourself a wonderful woman."

"Yeah, I do."

It felt like a hundred years before splashdown, and another hundred before at last he was cleared to see her again. He felt awful as he was forced to wait to reassure her. This was just the sort of thing she'd been so worried about!

She ran to him, at long last, after the debriefing. She clung to him and cried. He held her close and fought tears of his own as he whispered to her.

"I'm back, Holly. Just like I promised. And I'll give you everything you ever wanted, hear me? We're going to have a family, a house of our own. Wait and see."

"Oh, Peter!"

"I promise. And I always keep my promises, don't I? I'm here as proof."

"Then..." She looked up at him earnestly, "Peter... if you love me at all, please... Don't go back up there again!" she sobbed.

"Baby..." he gasped.

"It's too dangerous!" she wailed.

"But Holly... don't you see how important it is? We have to beat the Russians up there and besides, at the rate things are going there just won't be room on this planet in another hundred years..."

She was silent. He squeezed her and sighed.

"Look... I'll try, okay? Maybe I can do research on terra firma instead. We got a lot of data on the gate and I have some ideas. But they need men with experience, y'know? I saved us up there. Not bragging but I did. If I can save more missions..."

"I know. Look... let's just talk about it later," she said quietly.

He sighed. "Alright. Later." He kissed her lightly on the nose. "What do you want to talk about now?"

She looked up and forced a smile. "The wedding, baby."

Peter grinned. "That's my girl."

"Commander Walter! Could I get a picture?"

Peter smiled. Folks had tried to tell him that this would get old, but so far it hadn't. He posed with the young woman, who giggled and thanked him before running off to join the older lady who had taken the photograph.

"Well, if it isn't the hot shot young astronaut," a snide voice remarked.

"Dwight," Peter said coolly.

They looked at each other and snorted.

"How many did you get this week?" Peter asked as they walked inside.

"Six. I suppose I'm buying again."

"We can stop the competition if you want. I didn't know the press would make a fuss over me exclusively."

"Well, you are the superhero."

"I'm not a superhero..."

"The commander, then. The guy who did saved the day."

"Yeah, I was involved. But I'm not so special otherwise. It isn't as though all these kids have any other reason to ask for photos."

Dwight looked him up and down as they waited for the elevator and rolled his eyes. "Right. The Charles Atlas muscles, striking blue eyes and flowing brown locks have nothing to do with it."

"You flirting with me, buddy?" Peter asked, winking.

"Nice. I'd punch you if I thought I stood a chance at winning. Besides, Holly wouldn't appreciate you getting a black eye just now, would she?"

Peter grinned.

"Anyway," Dwight continued, "I'll be a good boy and buy the first round as planned. Tonight at eight, got it?"

"Got it." 

They went their separate ways and Peter at last chuckled to himself. As if he didn't see right through Flight Engineer Dwight. Maybe they did meet every Friday, but this time was special. Peter was getting married in the morning and if he wasn't mistaken, a lot more fellas than Dwight would be there to buy him drinks.

And he was exactly right! It was a helluva bachelor party, in fact. Peter's eyes were a tad bloodshot during the wedding, and Dwight looked like he was at his own funeral, but Holly was glorious and radiant... as usual. Peter never saw her any other way.

He felt badly for Dwight, though. He'd had a great time at the party, putting away twice as much liquor as any guy there, but it took its toll. He only made it half an hour into the reception, managing his best man's speech with an unsettling catch in his throat, before having to make his apologies and leave. Peter half expected him to throw up all over the nice place settings. But Dwight muscled through, though he couldn't choke down any of the lunch provided and begged off early.

By then, Peter and Holly hardly noticed. The Steam Man Band was playing as they danced, of course, with Rabbit singing the song Peter and The Spine had written for Holly. She cried openly in his arms and Peter felt choked up himself. It was a beautiful song, if he did say so himself, more so when Rabbit crooned it, but it was oddly melancholy, as so many love songs seemed to be.*

But there was only joy that day, and even more that night, and the day after, and the week after that... at which point the honeymoon was officially done and they went, just as joyfully, to live in military housing... or so they called it. The place they got was pretty nice, actually. Peter was kind of a big deal now, even among the astronauts.

Still floating on a haze of bliss from eight glorious days with his bride, Peter resolved to do what it took to keep her happy. There was some regret but no resistance when he asked to move permanently to the research division he'd been working in since landing. No one questioned his desire to stay on solid ground.

At first. Before long, the pressure began. Apparently it had been taken for granted by people around the base that Peter fully intended to return to space eventually... once he’d had his fill of marital bliss and maybe fathered a child or two. Or so he was told by Hodgson and Bishop one day. Dwight later confirmed it. But the real supporting data came six months after the wedding.

He was working on the next launch. It bothered him sometimes, but he’d made a promise. He loved Holly, and she had nightmares sometimes about him dying in space. Any lingering feelings of regret about his promise were worth it to give her peace of mind. But not everyone saw it that way.

”Commander!”

Peter looked up from his desk and rose hastily, saluting. “Colonel?”

”Senator, meet Commander Peter Walter,” Col. Harris said grandly after returning the salute.

He gestured to a man who was approaching with a pair of formidable bodyguards and what looked like a secretary. Peter concealed his shock and held out his hand. The Senator accepted it, smiling warmly.

”Commander! It’s a real pleasure!”

”Oh, um, likewise, sir! I mean... you have me somewhat at a loss. I wasn’t expecting such an important visitor today.”

“My apologies! I was in town and asked the Colonel here about you. He told me something that threw me for a loop. I understand you’re not among the crew slated to head back up with the space station project.”

”Oh... well, that’s correct, sir. Last trip was enough for me. I mean, that was a close shave we had.”

”And that’s why I thought I’d talk some sense into you. It was my understanding that you were the reason the ship came through unscathed!”

”I didn’t do it alone, sir. A commanding officer may get the praise but his men...”

”Follow his orders. And you gave the order for Bishop to throw the hatch. That was how it went down, correct?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Walter... I’ll be straight with you. We need you on this mission. This isn’t just another launch. This is a cooperative project that will bring together members of multiple nations, even Russia, and that’s a helluva thing. I even have it on good authority that some of those nations are especially proud that they're signing on with Commander Walter, the hero of the Cosmo space flight. More to the point, they're only willing to take the risk if you're the one heading the mission, on Earth and in space. If you aren’t involved, they’ll pull out.”

”I... I am involved, sir,” he faltered. 

Was this all true or just politics? Did they really want to do this because of Peter? The Senator was right, he had to admit... Peter had done that. Maybe it was chance, maybe it was his gut, maybe it was experience and training. But he’d saved them all. And whole nations were willing to join the program just because of it!

”You know what I mean. Not only are you the best man to lead this mission, but you’re the face of NASA right now. You’re our rock and roll star. Everything the President hoped to see happen and more is coming about because you saved that mission. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have given a snowball’s chance in Hell of ever getting another flight up there.

“So whaddya say, Commander? Will you step up and save the program a second time?”

It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t. How could he say no? And yet... how could he say yes?

”Senator... I hope you understand how much I want to give you my answer now. But I was just recently married and, well...”

”Oh, of course, son! Go home and talk it over with your little wife! I doubt very much if she’ll object too aggressively once she understands what’s at stake, but if she does, well, I’m sure you can turn on the charm and have her eating out of your hand, hm? Or at least show her who wears the pants in the family!”

Peter laughed with them but he was not amused. He knew exactly who wore the pants in the family. Her legs looked great in those clamdiggers...

But... this changed everything! And he had to admit... he desperately wanted to say yes. He had to at least ask her. That night, he brought home flowers and wine. Maybe it would help...

It didn’t.

"I thought we had agreed you'd stay here, Peter! We've only been married for six months!"

"Holly, come on! I'm not running out on you... I won't be going until the station is ready to launch. Even at the speed they're building it, that's gonna be another couple of years! I need to be up there to make sure it gets running properly."

"But you promised, Peter! _You promised!"_

"I know, but... dammit, Holly... Don't you see how important this is to the world, and to me?"

"Don't you see how important _you_ are to _me?"_ she demanded. "It was so close last time, as you're always telling people!"

"I'm not always..."

"You are! I swear it's all you think about sometimes!"

"Why wouldn't I think about it? It was... amazing! I was in space, Holly! My dream! You knew that when you promised to marry me, remember? You knew what the risks were!"

"But you've _been_ to space! Other people can go next time!"

"Other people don't know the equipment like I do! Other people didn't do what I did!"

"Peter..." she said shakily, "I love you... I don't want to lose you, and you're making it sound like I'm asking for something unreasonable!"

"It is unreasonable!" he snapped at last. "You're trying to force me to give up my dream! And yeah, there's some risk, but I take a risk every time I get in the car to head to work!"

"It's not the same thing!"

"It _is_ the same thing! Y'know what... you don't want a man, you want a... a _husband!"_

"You _are_ a husband!"

"But you want someone who will always be around, mowing the lawn and playing ball with the kids and getting fat watching the news! This is my _dream,_ Holly!"

"What's wrong with wanting a husband to be around? I thought that was the whole point of getting married! To be together!"

"Yes, but not like this! Not... not tied up in a straitjacket!"

They fell silent as one, panting with the energy of their rage. Tears were streaming down her face. Peter felt rotten... but still so angry! Why did she have to be this way about it? Hadn't he shown her he loved her? Women sent their husbands to war sometimes... was this any different?

But her tears stung him. Less than a year before, she'd nearly lost him. Of course she was scared of risking it again. He swallowed, hard.

"I'm sorry..." he said weakly.

"You feel straitjacketed?" she asked thickly. "That's what being married to me feels like? Like being tied up and bound?"

"No... no, Holly... I shouldn't have said that..."

"Because you didn't mean it or because you didn't want to admit it?" she sobbed.

He wanted to be able to tell her that it was because he didn't mean it. But he knew in his heart that he _had_ meant it, if only for a moment. 

"Because I just shouldn't have said it, okay?" he gritted. She didn't need to know that he'd felt that way for even a second. He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Holly. Please forgive me..."

She ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. Peter fought a terrible urge to kick the wall. Instead, he went out for a long walk.

He’d known she wouldn’t agree! But he wanted so desperately to join the mission. It was an ache deep in his chest, so overwhelming he thought it would choke him. He’d only have to be gone a few months at a time. Men were deployed for longer! She wasn’t even ready to try for a baby yet, so now would be the perfect time!

But the longer he walked, the more he kept seeing the pain on her face as she processed his words... that loving her was a prison. And it hurt.

When he came back in, the bedroom door was still shut. He walked miserably to the living room and sank into a chair, hands over his face.

"You screwed up, Walter..." he muttered. "Best thing to happen to you and you ruined it..."

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Holly, hair wet from the shower, stood in her bathrobe behind him.

"Peter... I'm sorry..." she whispered in a trembling voice. "I... I don't want to be a burden to you..."

He rose quickly, pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "You're not, Holly... you couldn't be! Please don't cry..."

But she did cry. He kissed her tears away the best he could and swept her up to carry her to their room. Soon after, as they lay embraced in bed, she grudgingly accepted his plans to return to space.

"It's just like sending a soldier overseas, baby," he breathed into her ear as he nibbled her neck. "I'll miss you every day, and when I get back, well..."

He kissed her passionately.

"I know..." she whispered at last. "Please... don't let's talk about it right now... I don't want to fight anymore tonight."

It wasn't entirely encouraging, but it would do. He kissed her again. Neither had any more to say for the rest of the night.

Holly seemed to lose her reluctance as the work progressed. Peter didn't know whether she was genuinely embracing it or simply wanted to keep the peace. He, slightly guiltily, didn't rock the boat. She was no longer interfering, and he should be grateful for it. Besides, he and his team had made so much progress and the designs were looking promising. It was easy to keep his mind off her potential objections.

And he was going back up! He hadn't been this happy since his wedding day. Well... he had... but in a different way... He pushed the thought guiltily aside and returned to his diagrams.

He assembled the rest of his crew over the next few months. Dwight, to Peter's disappointment, bowed out, saying one near death experience was more than he had ever wanted. Hodgson and Bishop eagerly joined, to his satisfaction. He needed experienced men on this mission. The designs were completed, equipment and ships checked and rechecked. The day arrived at last.

Launch went off without a hitch. The first two rockets carried partially assembled sections, to be connected in space. The third, timed to rendezvous with the first two, carried the astronauts and provisions for their time in orbit.

It took a month to construct the basic living quarters and mess hall of the Space Militia 10 Vulcan Orbiter. Once they had thoroughly inspected the work down to the least rivet, they activated life support, transferred their equipment inside and moved in, releasing their capsule to splashdown on Earth. Another rocket would arrive in two months, bringing additional supplies and a change of some of the workers. But for now, they had all they needed for four more months, just in case, stored in their new home.

And that home was amazing! Peter had walked through seemingly endless models and simulations, even a test mock up of the very panels surrounding him now. But to hover, helmet off, looking through one of the windows he himself had designed and helped to put together! It was more fantastic than anything he could have imagined. 

Bishop carefully rested his hand on Peter's shoulder as he and Hodgson drifted up to join him. "Damned if you didn't pull it off, Walter. She's a beauty."

"Thanks..." Peter breathed. "I just wish Dwight had come along to see this."

"Dwight made his choice, Walter. He decided there was more for him on Earth than in space," Bishop said coldly.

"I know. It's just that... he's my best friend. Kinda wanted to have him along for this mission. But hey... at least Holly has someone to call whenever she needs anything."

Bishop said nothing. He glanced at Hodgson and bobbed off down the tube to the barracks.

"Something wrong?" Peter asked Hodgson.

"Oh... well... y'know. I think he's just homesick. Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Hodgson chuckled. He followed Bishop through the tube.

Peter sighed. Bishop had never been very fond of Dwight, and now it seemed he was convincing Hodgson. It was a shame, considering Dwight was the nicest guy he knew.

He pushed off the wall and whisked down the tunnel after them.

The next step was to implement the artificial gravity he had been developing with his fellow scientists. The mini generators had already been installed throughout the decks and the next few weeks were spent connecting and activating them. They worked, after a fashion. Many adjustments were required in order to get the correct amount of pull, but soon they were walking the decks as thought they were back on Earth. Things were going smoothly.

Too smoothly. It was always the way.

All it took was a tiny flash of static. So the camera transmissions told them after the fact. Best they could figure, it was the gravity generators causing friction, which met fabric, and the oxygen completed the recipe.

"Fire... Fire... Fire..." the intercom announced blandly, understating the urgency of the whirring red lights and the gutwrenching stab of horror in Peter's chest as he leaped up from his work.

”No!” he gasped. He punched the comm buttons and found the location of the fire, then bolted from the office.

They'd considered the risks of fire on the station, of course. They'd even named it Vulcan as if to somewhat superstitiously appease the god of fire himself. There were seals at every junction just in case, airtight doors that closed over caged barriers to prevent the spreading of the flames as the extinguisher protocols activated.

By the time Peter reached the affected corridor, the doors were already locked down.

“Dammit!” he roared as others arrived on the scene. “Is there anyone in the sealed passage?”

”I don’t know...” Bishop gasped.

They all ran together around the observation deck and stared helplessly across the open central plaza at the sealed section. All the tubes were more or less visible from there, each with small windows through which Peter could now see the flames... and the man inside.

”It’s... it’s Molina...” Bishop whispered.

They stared, unable to reach him, unable to help. He was burning, screaming. It had happened so fast he hadn't even passed out from the smoke. He clawed at the glass and flailed in his agony, and no one could do a thing for him. All they could do was watch... some sobbing, some turning away. 

But Peter, tears streaming down his cheeks, forced himself to watch. He couldn't help the man, couldn't even be with him as he died. But he deserved to have someone stand vigil, someone witness his last moments.

It felt like a century, but it was only seconds. He knew, because he had programmed the station protocols himself.

The loudspeaker blared, "Extinguishing fire in three... two... one..."

The man's screams intensified. Peter watched, aching, as the airlock opened and sucked the man out of the passage, despite his efforts to cling to the window frame, into cold and empty space. The fire abruptly guttered and went out. The charred astronaut floated, dim in the distance, through the void, fading into the darkness.

"Fire extinguished. Resealing airlock," the computer announced calmly.

Peter saluted numbly amid the choking sobs around him and hung his head at last.

“Commander Walter... how have clean-up operations been going?” General Baker asked.

”Well, enough, sir,” Peter reported nervously, glad it was only a video call. He was nervous enough without seeing the man in person. “We, uh... found the source of the spark. I’m confident that when we return, we’ll be able to prevent a recurrence...”

”Whoa, whoa, there...” 

“Sir?”

”When you return? Who said you were leaving?”

Peter managed to keep from gaping. It had been two days since the... incident. He’d expected word any day that they’d all be evacuated from the station. It did not, however, sound like it was in the offing.

”Well, I’d naturally assumed, sir... I also put the recommendation in my report.”

”And it’s been acknowledged and rejected. It’s less risky to leave you up there to correct the problem and continue your research.”

Less risky to whom? Peter thought, anger stabbing at his chest. On the other hand, if this meant the space station wasn’t going to be dismantled... another fear of his... then maybe he had better suck it up and accept it.

“If you’re that confident, sir... in my ability to correct the problem, I mean...”

”Of course, Commander! We will, of course, be sending investigators up and some support for you.”

He didn’t know where to begin. Investigators? Did they think it was deliberate? Negligence, possibly? Were they keeping them up there so that they could question them in isolation? And support? What the hell did he mean by that?

”Now, cool down, Commander. I can see your face going red. We need someone to check things out. Someone who hasn’t had the shock of watching it go down. She’ll gather data and return on the next supply ship. And we’re also sending someone to work with you all on recovering from the incident.”

”I... we don’t need...”

”I’m going to cut you off right there, Commander. This is compulsory, comprende? We’ll brook no denial. Y’all need to talk to an analyst anyway after being in space this long. Just bite the bullet and deal with it. Again, it’s temporary. Once y’all are cleared by the psychiatrist we’ll move to stage four.”

”Understood,” Peter replied, more calmly than he felt. 

“And I hope it goes without saying that we’re keeping this incident on the down-low. Loose lips sink ships, and yours has a long way to fall.”

That felt like a threat. Peter didn’t like it... any of it.

”Got it?”

”Got it, sir,” he said tightly.

”That includes your little wife. I hope you understand.”

He understood. It was the one thing he agreed with. Holly did not need to know about this.

”I do. If that’s all, sir?”

”It’s all. See you at next week’s briefing.”

”See you then. Walter out.”

The comm shut off. Peter stared at the blank screen, seething.

And that was that. He wanted the program to continue, but... Molina was dead. They couldn’t even retrieve the body. And apparently the military saw him as collateral damage, like broken or lost equipment. Molina had years of education and training under his belt, a family back home in Barcelona. If the collective military powers saw him as an acceptible loss, was there anyone among the crew they didn’t see as expendable? Even Peter?

He switched off the light and flopped onto his bed. It was the night he usually called Holly, but how could he talk with her now? He’d send her a message in the morning to apologize. She was always distracted during calls anyway. He supposed she’d had to keep busy with her own things since he was in space... he couldn’t fault her for that.

It all felt wrong. But what could he do, except try and make it safer for future astronauts? So that was what he would do. No one knew the ship like he did anyway.

And though the government covered the truth for the greater good, Peter would remember the man, at least... too often in his nightmares. This he concealed from the investigators and the psychiatrist, who returned to Earth eventually, reporting the fire was an accident and listing who was up to continuing the mission, and who wasn’t. Those who weren’t were relieved by replacements and left on the next ship, presumably to resume their lives on the surface, and life went on.

Right or wrong, he had been given another chance and he meant to make the most of it.

Six months later:

He woke, gasping, from yet another nightmare. He'd been the one burning this time, seared through the heart by a dazzling violet blue bolt of matter... his skin burning with blue fire, hardening, turning strangely cold as he screamed into the depths of space...

But there was a sound... repeating, demanding his attention. After a few seconds of confusion, he realized, with a sharp, sick feeling, what it was.

"Fire... fire..."

"No!" he choked, scrambling out of bed.

The red lights flashed as he bolted from the room. He needed to get to the observation deck... he should have checked the comm for the location of the fire but he’d run out too quickly...

He stopped short in horror. Two corridors ahead... flames across the doorway! The grate was already lowering. He turned back the way he'd come... the same thing?

Peter forced himself to remain calm as he turned back toward the fire. It wasn't in this passage... the grate behind him was closing to prevent crewmembers from passing through, the ones ahead to prevent any who might have already been in this chamber from going further and entering the burning passage. Once the airlocks in front of him closed, he would be safe, secured against the flames. The seals were already moving.

And then he heard a sound that made his blood run cold despite the heat of the flames.

”Commander! Commander, wait! No! Dammit, no!”

His throat closed off as he saw three crew members sprinting toward the closing doors, sobbing in panic. It was too late! The grates were shut, the hatches would crush them if they tried to slip through! There just wasn't time!

Hands reached through, flames licking their sleeves. He wanted to scream at them to pull their hands back before the seals closed, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. The only reason he could give them was to make sure the seals closed tightly enough.

A face, eyes wild with terror, flashed between the flames, and Peter choked with sudden sobs.

“Bishop...”

The door had reached their arms... two pulled back but one... Peter grimaced, his eyes clamped shut against the scene but unable to block out the scream of agony.

”Error... error...” the computer intoned. “Door seal failure... error... error...”

”Fine...” he whispered, eyes still closed for fear of seeing what had kept the door from closing. “Open it... jettison this chamber too... let me die with them... it’s only right...”

The message stopped. There was a grotesque sucking sound. The door had closed in spite of the obstruction. The screams cut off sharply.

He opened his eyes, now streaming with tears. There was the softest hiss... the seal wasn’t quite closed. The station shuddered as the airlocks opened... he felt the air around him thin. He grew dizzy.

”Fire extinguished. Resealing airlock.”

Another shudder. The oxygen began to replenish but Peter’s head was already swimming as he squinted at several pink and red blurs on the floor by the doorway. He staggered forward, realized what he was seeing... and passed out.

They found him there after the airlock released, awake but curled in on himself, crying softly into his hands. He was given a sedative and put to bed. By the time he woke, he already had orders to return to Earth on the next shuttle. Of course.

He was ready to return. He had a lot to say. They needed to bring everyone home, to scrap the program and start fresh after more research. If they had stopped to do so the last time, Bishop and the others would still be alive. Three families would still have their husband, father, sister.

That was what he planned to tell them. Consequences be damned, he would tell them and probably be kicked out of the program. Then he would give Holly the husband she deserved, a real husband, children... everything he could. Everything he'd promised.

A month later, Peter sat holding his hat, staring straight down a long, cold, empty white hallway.

They were debating their judgment inside. He'd told them all he could, in spite of everything. In spite of it being all for nothing.

Holly had left him. He had received the letter just a few days after the last fire... which meant she'd sent it before.

"Dear Peter,

"I can't wait anymore. I'm sorry. I hope you know that I love you, but I've realized that you can't love me the same way. I'll always be second and that wasn't what I'd planned for my life. Your dream was to soar among the stars. Mine was to spend my life with you.

"We can't both have our dreams, so I'm setting you free to have yours. I've found a new dream with someone who can share it. I'll always be first in his life. From what he's said, I always was. But he loved me enough to let me go. I hope you can do the same."

She'd sent another afterward, saying she'd give him another chance. But he knew it was because of the incident. He knew pity when he saw it. She was kind, she cared. But she had a chance to be happy. If she could let him go in hopes of making him happy, he could do the same for her. He sent a short note telling her not to bother and wishing her well.

He wiped casually at his eyes and continued staring. The verdict didn't even matter anymore. Bishop was dead. Holly had turned Peter out of her life, saying he'd left it of his own accord. And he had.

And for the final, decisive blow... Dwight was the one Holly had chosen to take his place.

He shivered in the cold emptiness of the hallway, listening to the dry murmur of faint voices. If they saw fit, they could choose to put him on trial for negligence. They had already investigated the effect of his strained marriage on his actions that day. He might end up in jail, or a mental hospital. And that was okay, now. They hadn't appreciated his recommendation to publicly admit what had really happened. And that meant the next step was no doubt to throw him under the bus. Not that he cared, not anymore.

But the verdict from the hearing came swiftly.

"Congratulations, Commander. It is this tribunal's ruling that you did everything in your power to prevent the fire but it took hold too quickly. Your designs saved you and the other crew members and therefore we absolve you of any responsibility."

He nodded, strangely disappointed. He wouldn’t have minded prison, maybe even a mental hospital. Someone else would worry about food and shelter and he could turn inside himself and never come out.

Of course, he could have that at Walter Manor. But he also couldn’t bring himself to return there. He couldn’t face them. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to. This had all started with a suspiciously familiar blast of blue light...

But he wasn’t angry. If anything, he was afraid. His grandfather, his family... they were playing with fire.

Fire. He pushed the thought aside and realized they had been speaking to him.

”Commander? I said, are you alright?”

He looked up coldly and they all flinched ever so slightly.

”I’m fine,” he said.

”With all due respect, that’s not how it appears. I don’t think you heard a word we said.”

”You said I was absolved of any responsiblity,” he said bitterly.

”And that it was the recommendation of the examiners that you received psychiatric evaluation and treatment before returning to duty...”

”Returning to... excuse me, but you think _I’m_ the one with a problem?” he demanded. A mental institution had sounded appealing until it was actually on the table! “Four people died up there, you say I’m not responsible, and yet you think I need a shrink before I can go back?”

”Commander, mind your tone,” the presiding judge said coolly.

”Mind _my_ tone?” he echoed. “Why the hell should I bother? You need to bring the rest of those astronauts down from that station! The whole thing should be set adrift in space and the program should be scrapped! I made all that clear in my report! The station is too dangerous!”

”In exploring a new frontier, there are certain risks and there are losses as a result...” the man began.

”And so it’s worth it? The best and brightest go up there to burn alive and be broken in pieces and it’s just the price we pay? What the hell kind of reasoning is that?”

”Commander!” the judge cried. “Your attitude about the project has been made abundantly clear! Our decision stands! Since you plainly have no interest in returning to the station, this court can only renew the recommendation that you see the base psychiatrist for your own good and the good of those around you! If you accept the needed treatment, we are willing to reconsider giving you a command commission in another, less stressful position, such as squadron commander. But, and let me underscore this in triplicate, until you have been cleared by a psychiatric physician we will not issue any such order. Do I make myself clear?”

Peter simmered, forcing himself not to boil over. These maniacs intended to keep sending people up there! But... he couldn’t go home. He wouldn’t. He had nowhere else, he couldn’t get so much as a job behind a soda counter now without being recognized. 

And this time, the world knew what had happened up there. He wasn’t the only one calling for an end to it, but it was too big now to stop. He saw that. The most he could do was play their game, still have a job and a place to sleep, and maybe have the chance to help if anything else happened.

”Commander?”

”Clear as crystal,” he muttered, looking down at the papers on the table rather than into their eyes.

And that was that. Officially, he was absolved of any wrongdoing, notwithstanding his angry outbursts. And unfortunately, as he’d expected, the court of public opinion had its own ruling.

So much for being the hero, the role model. Now, to the world, Peter Alexander Walter IV was nothing short of a madman who took pleasure in burning his victims alive and launching them into space, lost forever to those they'd left behind. Meeting with the families to give his condolences had been even worse... wives, children and parents forgiving him with their lips, judging and condemning him with their eyes.

He received his psychiatric evaluation and was scheduled for weekly psychotherapy sessions. It was said to be for his good but in his opinion, it was a subterranean way of making him the scapegoat without bringing actual charges. But he could hardly argue. He was angry, yes. But he had no energy to fight. And to be sure, he did need to talk.

In time, he began to feel a bit more capable of returning to space and was given a squad of spacecraft, heading the new Earthbound space fleet that had been constructed on designs made largely by Peter himself. He struggled with the choice to leave him in command; the idea of issuing any orders was growing more and more distasteful to him. Orders always seemed to result in someone dying.

But it was all he had, now. It was at least part of the dream he'd once had, one that would have to be enough to fill the space left when Holly abandoned him for his best friend... who happened to also be a man who was willing to stay on the ground with her.

A job that involved flying really was the best fit. He didn’t want to spend much time on the same planet as Holly and Dwight.

Unfortunately, he just couldn't seem to establish a rapport with any of the men now under his command. They were friendly, at first. But friendliness set his teeth on edge. Friendships had failed him, betrayed him, stolen his love, died before his eyes. Old ones had failed and he couldn't bring himself to form new ones. Even Hodgson had grown distant since Bishop's death.

He still had his family, but he lived on the other side of the country from them. He didn't really like calling them, either. They asked too many questions, tried to offer comforting words he'd heard a million times over. He wasn't interested. He threw himself into his work instead.

It had been a year since he’d taken command. In that time his men had become an elite squadron under his command. They hadn’t become any more friendly, but then, he made no effort to do so either. He had their respect and their obedience. It was all he needed despite his analyst’s suggestion that he try and make friends, or even see women again.

But how could he? Holly had been the love of his life and he had driven her away. Sometimes he was angry at her, sometimes himself. Sometimes he felt there had never been a chance at a successful marriage. But the one thing he never thought was that he could possibly bear to trying dating another woman.

Today it was that much worse. Today he had gotten the divorce papers to sign. He had stood and stared at them for a long time before signing and mailing them back.

It was over. He’d promised to hold her and she had released him from it. He was alone. He couldn’t call home about it, couldn’t go home. Wanda would want him to talk it out, and Holly and Dwight had moved back to San Diego.

Peter supposed his men would find this hysterical. He’d gotten in hot water just a few months into his command when he’d overheard one of them cracking jokes about him setting his marriage on fire and launching it out an airlock. Peter had walked straight in and punched the kid. He’d been let off with a wrist-slapping after witnesses testified as to what the pilot had said. Some things, they had explained, shouldn’t be tolerated by a commanding officer.

They sounded sympathetic, but he could feel their judgment. He'd kept his cool for so long but now he felt as though he could set the whole hangar on fire and laugh while it burned. 

No... not on fire. He felt momentarily sick and brushed it off, sighed sharply and headed out to the field.

The men looked at him with the usual blank expressions. There was no trace of the attempts at friendliness they'd made when he'd started there. Every eye was cold, now. Just like everything else.

Takeoff was uneventful, at least. No clumsiness, every man showing what he had learned. Satisfying. It was one of his few remaining joys.

He'd brought them to this point, temper or no temper. But of course no one bothered to look at that, did they? They cared that he was the fallen hero, the man who had lost four people in space, the flawed, broken commander from a weird family of mad scientists...

He shut out that line of thinking. He had to keep a cool head out here. They were about to break out of the atmosphere.

"Squad Alpha, ready for break out," he reported.

"Cleared. Safe flying, Alpha."

A burst of speed... his favorite part... and he was out. His controls told him the rest of the squad was right behind. Not bad at all. He considered praising them on their performance, but he knew it would sound empty coming from him. They knew they were good. They could take satisfaction in that.

"Beta group, patrol orbit and report back. Timmons, you're in command."

"Yes, sir."

He led the Alpha Squad through their formation, rather enjoying himself. It was something, at least. Something to live for, something to keep him going. If they continued to improve, he might even manage to work up a little satisfaction in his job.

He glimpsed the station in the distance and steered the squad away. It wasn’t safe to fly near and more than that... he just didn’t want to see it. Sometimes he was sure he saw a body floating away into space...

"Timmons here! Um... Commander, we have something coming at us!"

He wheeled his plane around, making for Beta Squad’s coordinates, the ships behind him in pursuit. "What is it, Timmons?"

"It's..."

Static.

"Timmons! Timmons, read!"

He clicked the switch over and over.

"Anyone in range of Beta Squad, copy!"

There was a buzz, as of an incoming communication. He waited anxiously.

A piercing scream cut off in more static.

"Holy Hell..." he breathed. "Alright... all ships fall in. Be prepared for anything."

They began to fly through wreckage thirty seconds later.

"All stop..."

A body in a flight suit drifted across his vision. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming. It wasn’t one of them... one of the four. But it was a member of Beta Squad, and the rest appeared to be in the same state. Debris drifted past... pieces of ships, sparking, unable to burn with their seals shattered and oxygen gone, bodies, sometimes in pieces.

No one alive.

"Commander?" came a voice, almost pleading, from a member of Alpha Squad.

It was his second in command. Peter forced himself to open his comm. "Any sign of what did it?" he said thickly.

"There's a light-"

Something struck his ship with the force of a steel press. The comm buzzed. He heard shouting... screaming... all around him light flashed... explosions, the strange streak of blinding colors...

What was happening? It had just struck, no warning, no chance to think! He shook his head and tried to focus.

Peter gunned his ship, tried to get a bearing on it. Nothing happened, the engine wouldn’t respond. It had been only a few seconds but the squad was in tatters. Ships exploding... trying to fight and being torn in half the second they fired a single shot... but torn apart by what?

Alarms blared on his ship. Whatever had struck it had done too much damage. It was a lost cause. Peter sealed his suit and struck eject the button a scant second before whatever it was tore through the rest of his ship.

He drifted, seeing light reflecting off the ships and bodies he was facing. It was behind him. He waited for it to strike but... no... it flashed by in the distance in front of him. He could still hear screams and clamped his eyes shut, but it didn’t work now any more than it had with Bishop. 

The screams slowly trickled down to nothing. An hour later, it was over. The last working ship had long since been stilled, and Peter, trying not to panic, floated, watching the mysterious light still flitting through the wreckage.

Maybe it was looking for more men to murder. Maybe it was eating them. He couldn’t tell. He was broken, bruised... the pain was terrible, the cold seeping through even his specially designed suit. His oxygen wouldn't last much longer.

It was coming closer. His hearted pounded, whether in fear or anticipation, he wasn’t sure. After all... did it really matter if he died? He had thought not, for a long time, but now... now that he might, he was terrified.

It floated nearer, raised it’s... hands... real, human hands... and brushed the light away from its face like hair.

She stared at him. Peter stared back.

“Holly...”

At least, it looked like her... translucent, glowing, but her. He could see her bones softly through her flesh, as if looking at a colored x-ray, because she wore nothing except... Holly's locket! But how?

More astonishing was the look on her face... her chin trembling with sobs, fat tears trickling past her strange, glowing freckles. She looked like a child who had just seen her pet run over by a car. But she had been the one doing harm, the one who had killed all of the pilots!

Even him. A moment, maybe a few minutes if she spared him, and he, too, would be among the dead. He braced for the inevitable blow.

She hung her head and turned away. She wasn’t going to kill him? Had she decided to just let him die, or was she showing mercy?

"Wait!" he gasped. "I'm dying... stop..."

She turned. She peered in as though confused.

"Help me..." he wheezed. “If you have any regret over all this... if you at least have any mercy at all...”

He was growing dizzy. The oxygen was almost gone.

Something drifted into his vision a split second before striking him, hard. His helmet shattered as the remains of a vessel wheeled between them.

_And that's it,_ he thought, as everything went white.

The last thing he remembered for a long while was her hands reaching for him.

He woke to a warm rosy glow behind his eyelids. Where... where was he? It felt like someone was holding him. He slowly, painfully opened his eyes. There was brightness. He closed them against the sharpness of the light as his head throbbed in response.

”Who... who are you...?” he whispered. “Oh... my head...”

There was no reply. He forced his eyes open a crack and saw a face.

”Holly...” he breathed. “Holly, I had the worst dream...”

But no, Holly had left him. So why was she here? Maybe he was dying in a hospital somewhere.

”Holly... Holly, I’m so sorry...”

No... His mind slowly cleared as he watched her. Holly wasn’t translucent... was she? No... no, of course not... _focus, Walter..._ he’d been in space, something had gone wrong and...

And this woman was the reason! It was... oh, no! The creature! The thing that had murdered dozens of men and women! _It was holding him!_

But it was so soft... so warm... His head rested against her breast, her arms held him securely. His fear began to subside a little.

And yet Peter still felt deeply uncomfortable, not because she had killed so many pilots and now held his life in her arms, not even because he was in the depths of space, alone with this creature, his helmet shattered. If anything, it was because it felt too safe, too reassuring. He hadn’t been held like this since...

She lifted one clawed hand and he flinched. But despite the long, sharp, jagged nails, she touched his face softly, stroking his skin, lingering over the razor stubble. She explored the shape of one ear and touched her own. She ruffled her fingers through his thinning hair. She slid the pad of her thumb over his eyelid and blinked as though with recognition.

Her curious fingers found his lips. The stroke tickled and sent shivers down his spine. Her eyes widened a little and she touched her own lips. She leaned toward him and he froze. She was going to kiss him!

Their lips touched, but instead of receiving a kiss as he knew it, he felt her brush her lips across his as though exploring the texture of the skin. She did the same for his chin, cheeks, and forehead, smiling innocently at each new texture and shape. She nipped gently at his ear, then bent it with her fingers until he hissed in pain. Her smile faded, but returned as she gently returned it to its proper place and patted it tenderly.

Peter closed his eyes as her childlike explorations reached them. Her lips brushed softly over the delicate skin of his eyelids and he choked. The touch was so gentle, so soft... he shuddered and began to weep. Her tenderness hurt far more deeply than her unintended roughness to his ear.

He’d been so alone. So bitterly alone! Holly had left him, his best friend had joined her. Bishop was dead, Hodgson hated him for it. He couldn’t feel close to his family, couldn’t stand their pity, couldn’t drag them down with him. No woman would give him the time of day back on Earth unless he paid her, maybe not even then. He hadn’t been held, touched, loved... He sobbed as the girl’s lips brushed his nose.

How could she be so brutal and so tender? He opened his eyes and looked at her sweet face, now fixed with a look of confused concern. How had she killed so many men? He had watched her do it, seen the bodies. She was a murderer!

But she felt warm, soft... He reasoned that he should be afraid, but he wasn't, not anymore. She brushed a tear from his cheek and watched it float into the vacuum around them. It floated to the edge of whatever field surrounded her and froze as it continued into the distance. If he’d needed any confirmation of his situation, that was it. He looked at her instead, trying not to think about the fact that they were still in deep space. He was distressed enough.

Why did she look like Holly? Or was he projecting it, still hallucinating from lack of oxygen? And why had she had chosen him, out of the entire militia? Why had she spared him and taken him away? Did he want to know?

"Who are you?" he asked thickly.

She leaned away, holding him by the shoulders, and looked at him blankly. "Whooo...”

”Who,” he repeated.

”Whoo...”

She was mimicking him?

“Who are you?” he said slowly.

“Whoo... are... yooouu..." she echoed slowly and deliberately. He was reminded of a particular blue caterpillar...

"I asked you first..." he said with a moist chuckle.

"I asssked yooou firssst..."

She did not appear to be much of a conversationalist. He sighed. She did the same, but it made vibrations and gave him chills all over. He smiled a little. She copied him and he felt a little less afraid.

He touched her cheek and she blinked, surprised. He pulled his hand away... she grasped it and brought it back to her cheek. Her smile returned.

Well, that was adorable. But, he reminded himself... she'd killed the entire squad. 

"Why did you do it?" he whispered. "Why kill them at all? Were you afraid?"

She took his other hand to place against her other cheek. His heart thumped.

"You're like a child," he murmured. "Like some innocent girl left alone on an island all her life.”

But she didn’t look like a child, didn’t feel like one. Her gleaming eyes blinked slowly. She closed them and pressed her hands over his. Now that he saw them, they weren’t really claws. She looked as though her nails had broken off from time to time but had never been cut.

”Of course you attacked us,” he murmured. “We were ready to attack you."

She opened her eyes and reached for his face again. But one rough nail cut his chin and he flinched. Her eyes opened wide and her chin trembled. He dabbed at his chin... he was bleeding.

She turned her head away slightly. Tears floated from her eyes into the void.

”You didn’t want to do it. I’d bet anything they fired first and you panicked and... you’re just too powerful. And they kept attacking because they believed you did. They were afraid and acted like animals.”

He gently touched her cheek once more and she turned back to him, her face contorted in grief. He raised his eyebrows slightly, hoping to look nonthreatening.

She placed her hands on his temples, pressed her forehead against his. Oh... this was nice...

He gasped as he saw in his mind’s eye a view of a section of the squad flying toward him. His perception moved forward swiftly as though hurrying to meet them. Hair swung around as the viewpoint slowed, clipped the lead ship, knocking it into another. One of the ships fired at him. It hurt, he could almost feel it... another fired... fear, she was afraid... The rest was carnage and chaos.

"Stop!" he gasped, seeing the fiery explosions, feeling as though he, not she, was the one killing them. The flames quickly extinguished as the oxygen dispersed, but not quickly enough. He could see them, he always seemed to see them, pilots screaming for their lives, burning, burning...

”No!” he sobbed. “No more... no more deaths...”

They’d burned, those astronauts, they’d died under his watch, even after he told the government to stop it, they were left up there to burn! And yet the military had kept on, continued the work, made Peter's research a tool of carnage and death! His squad was gone, he was... who knew where, now? Earth was nowhere to be seen and she couldn’t understand what he was saying...

He wept, anguished, enraged, terrified tears. Her hands pulled away abruptly and she stared at him. What was she thinking now? She had killed them all because they hurt her first, or because she didn’t know what she was doing, he wasn’t sure which... but it was still wrong, still horrific! Did she understand the depth of loss she had created?

But... maybe they all deserved it! Maybe the whole human race needed to just burn, explode, disappear!

He shook his head, aching. No, he couldn't condone it. His sister still lived there... his nephew, his family. He had to think of them. There were people on Earth worth saving. Even Holly... 

Maybe this space girl was capable of taking him home. But maybe he didn’t want to go. They already blamed him for the deaths on the station. They’d blame him for the deaths of his squad, too. They’d probably attack the girl and if she fled they’d try to hunt her down and more of them would die. The human race advance, evolved, bettered itself, reached into the cosmos... and still tried to kill what it didn’t understand. 

Let them try and populate space. They'd just keep dying. But he didn’t have to stay around and watch. Screw them. Screw them all.

"Take me with you," he murmured, hoping she understood. She'd already taken him this far, so maybe she wanted to. "Please... I don't want to go back."

She was slowly placing her little hands on his cheeks again. She gave him the same puzzled look as before. He concentrated, picturing them flying off into space together, away from Earth. If she could project into his head, maybe she could see inside it.

The girl blinked, looking back over her shoulder at a bright spot of light, just big enough to identify... Earth.

"No," he breathed. “We don’t belong there.” He pictured it again. She looked at him and smiled. "That's right," he murmured. "You and me. Away."

She blinked once more, touching her forehead to his again, and he froze as he felt her mind reach into his, playing every second of his life at a breakneck speed.

“No!” he gasped, trembling.

He caught her by the shoulders, thinking to push her away, forcing himself not to in case she might take offense and leave him to die. But it was almost beyond what he could endure... every single second... birth, childhood, adulthood... Holly, marriage, divorce... deaths happening before his eyes.

"No!" he choked, clamping his eyes shut. "I don't want to remember!"

But it was over. He shook, sobbing yet again.

”Why... why did you do that to me...” he demanded weakly through his tears.

Her expression had changed. She pulled him close and held him against her breast, caressing his cheek. But it felt different this time. She kissed his brow... sincerely, not as a means to gather information. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt so wonderful...

"I'm sorry, darling..." she whispered.

He opened his eyes, panting. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Peter darling,” she said. Her voice shivered, vibrated between them. “I've... upset you..."

"No... well... yes, but... how can you suddenly speak my language?”

"I don't know."

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and gazed into his eyes. Hers resolved from a blank glow into real eyes, complete with irises and pupils. They faded to white again and back as he watched. She smiled.

”You learned all that from... whatever you just did?” he faltered.

”Yes, darling.”

”But you don’t know how you did it?”

”No, darling.”

”You really shouldn’t call me darling. I mean, it’s nice but we really don’t know each other at all.”

”Darling is... a word of love...?”

”Yes. It’s meant for people who love each other, so you shouldn’t use it with me.”

She brushed a lock of her hair from where it rested on her face. Before he could ask any more questions, she touched his mouth, pulled him up to her face and kissed him tenderly.

He pushed away, shaking. She had learned too much! The kiss was sweet, but too familiar!

"No, please...” he gasped, “not like her..."

"Oh..." she murmured sady. “I am... sorry...”

“It’s not your fault...”

”It is a kiss.”

”Yes... it is...”

”They are pleasing to you?”

”Um... some of them. But not hers. Not anymore.”

”The purpose is to show feeling. As with the darling.”

”Yes...”

”I wish to show love feeling,” she said. “And you do not want the darling. So I will show it with the kiss.”

And she promptly did. It was different... uncertain... as though trying to ascertain what he did want, if he didn’t want the kiss he knew best. It was strangely, almost unendurably sweet.

He should have stopped her for any number of reasons, but he didn’t. Instead, he surrendered, melted into the kiss, held her tighter, or as tightly as he could manage in his suit. She pulled away and looked at him.

”These are pleasing to me,” she said shyly.

He smiled shakily. It had been very nice... 

"Look... just take me with you,” he begged softly. “Please... I have nothing to go back to."

”You do not want to return to your place?”

”It’s not my place any more. I... don’t feel... um... love feelings there. I want to stay with you.”

She smiled. "Alright."

Her arms wrapped around him, nestling him against her as they flew into the void. Peter rested there, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. This was wrong, wasn’t it? But she was so soft, so gentle. She was not a beast. She was a woman. He could feel it, could even see it through her skin. Down to the center, she was a human girl. 

He did his best to put the deaths he had just witnessed out of his mind, push them away into a place where they no longer affected him. They were his past, people whose story had ended. He was something other than a man, now.

But the voices haunted him. So many screams... He cried softly.

”Rest,” she whispered. “Sleep.”

She stroked his hair and began to recite, verbatim, his college English Literature textbook... which had always made him drowsy. He drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *I sorta figure the words might be a bit different in this dimension. Just the ones that make it sound like a song of loss. No idea of any replacement lyrics, though.


End file.
